A discussion with a client revealed that I'd somehow missed one of the Books of the Year a couple of years back. Not just any book, but *the* dog novel. How can that be, don't you know *I* am writing the Great American Dog Novel? my ego raged, even while I smiled and nodded and voiced wonder and interest. So, the client being a generous sort, a copy of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski, arrived in the mail. I read it with a great deal of interest, for not only does it serve up a feast of sumptuous prose, raise intriguing questions about cognition and communication, delve into motive and intent vis-a-vis instinct and consciousness, it is the only book I've ever read that was so obviously written by someone who himself lived the life I lead, or one very near to it.
All of those topics are primary foci of this blog. Certainly the life I've lead is in large measure an experience of total immersion in a world of dogs and various critters both domestic and wild. Without doubt it's my work with non-verbal animals, far more than my human interactions, that forced me to dig deeper into layers of communication than most people require or even want. In that regard I'm reminded of eighth grade Latin class, when I learned far more about grammar and the English language than I had understood from all those previous years of exposure to my native tongue; the contrast helps delineate what's going on, what's really being conveyed.
Animals reveal and reflect truth. Yes, they are capable of subterfuge, particularly among our primate cousins who have been shown to engage in some pretty impressive Machiavellian behavior. But I know of no non-human animals who will enter into a game of pretense with me...just imagine a dog trying to pretend they trust you when they don't. They can't; if you're looking, truly receptive to what they're saying, the message is clear. You have a problem that creates distrust in others; fix it if you want to be trustworthy, or at least be aware that while people may be willing to pretend you're a peach of a person, the dog's not capable of pretense. It may love you anyway, but the effect of distrust and fear will be loud and clear in body language. I am of the opinion that Zen can be taught by dogs, if the pupil is sensitive and receptive.
I didn't check any reviews prior to reading the book, other than a quick perusal of the dust jacket blurbs, but was disgruntled enough over various aspects of the writing that I was motivated to scan through some of the major media opinions. It has received almost universal accolades. Only on Amazon did I find a couple of reviewers who shared some of the feelings of consternation that arose in my own mind. I'll leave the specifics of the critiques, theirs and mine, for other venues because overall I do recommend it as a worthy read and one of the only ways to see inside a wholly doggy life. At least, until the publication of my own! So, I hope to generate a bit more discussion than usual in the next few entries because I'd love to address many of the threads that comprise the fabric of Edgar Sawtelle.
Getting my copy off the shelf. . .I'm in!!
ReplyDeleteI read the book a couple of years ago. I have thought of it a number of times since meeting you. It was my first intro to the work of dog breeding. As far as the overall plot goes, I just remember thinking...geez, I can't imagine this is going to end well and the pain of plodding along to the end to find out how bad it was going to get. But the dog/people communication part was intriguing.
ReplyDeleteAs far as dogs teaching, YES! In my journey so far with Qitty Dog she has been able to point out things to me no one else could. She has benefited each member of our household in a way unique to their personality.
Sounds as if we'll get some good discussions going. Those who haven't read it may want to; those who have may want to review it. Looking forward to your input and ideas!
ReplyDeleteWe could start with PoetGrrrl's observation that it was apparent from the opening pages that the reader had signed on for a tragedy; this realization naturally affects the reader's experience of the story. Similar thoughts intruded during my reading, making it hard to dissolve into the story when the course of events was so clear from the get-go. Expectations arise based on one's knowledge of the template (Shakespeare's Hamlet, among others) and with such a pinnacle of literary genius always looking over my shoulder while I read, Wroblewski sets himself up for persnickety sorts (like me) to make comparisons. How could I not find aspects wanting?
But kvetching about what doesn't work isn't as interesting as discussing what does. I'll be the first to say his prose absolutely soars in many sections...at one point it literally wrenched great, unanticipated sobs from me, and it wasn't over a death, it was for the sheer beauty of the author's words (I'll try to find that section...well, this isn't it, but who wouldn't swoon over this: "A pair of does sprang over the fence on the north side of the field -- two leaps each, nonchalant, long-sustained, falling earthward only as an afterthought.") His exploration of communication is extraordinary.
Wow, I was 3/4 asleep when I posted that. Let me clarify. I am interested in discussing the book from the standpoint of a reader/writer. But for purposes of this column, I'm interested in discussing the concepts introduced within the book. So, forgive my earlier comments about the writing, style, prose, structure, characterization, plot, etc. and let's stick with the intriguing topics set forth within the story.
ReplyDeleteI am interested in reading it..... And I will be one of the first in line for yours!!!
ReplyDeleteWhile sitting on the beach here at home in Connecticut, one line from Edgar Sawtelle struck me,
ReplyDelete"In the end, to create better dogs, we will have to become better people."
The chapter which comes closely on the heels of this quote from Alvin Brooks, a breeder of GSD dogs from the Fortunate Fields kennel, allows the reader to understand Almondine's perspective on loss, and, perhaps, reminds the reader how we need to become better people.
"And Trudy and Edgar, encapsulated in mourning, somehow forgot to care for one another, let alone her. Or if they knew, their grief and heartache overwhelmed them. Anyway, there was so little they might have done, save to bring out a shirt of his to lie on, perhaps walk with her along the fence line, where fragments of time had snagged and hung. But if they noticed her grief, they hardly knew to do those things. And she without the language to ask."
Exquisite use of language, isn't it? "...fragments of time had snagged and hung." Gorgeous, bittersweet imagery. We all know of such places....occasionally I still open drawers of my mother's pine chest to catch small whiffs that smell of her and can still transport me back to my childhood home. Gradually that scent is fading, and with it an era, a life. Grief is individual, and perhaps indeed Trudy and Edgar could not have done much to ease Amondine's pain, but the gesture of trying is itself a means of opening to connectedness. It hurts me in a physical way when I realize I've missed opportunity to offer aid or support to any sentient being.
ReplyDelete